THE SECRET ADVERSARY BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

Ritz would enjoy the spectacle of the glad reunion.”

Inquiry at the office revealed the fact that Tuppence had not yet returned.

“All the same, I guess I’ll have a look round upstairs,” said Julius. “She

might be in my sitting-room.” He disappeared.

Suddenly a diminutive boy spoke at Tommy’s elbow:

“The young lady–she’s gone away by train, I think, sir,” he murmured

shyly.

“What?” Tommy wheeled round upon him.

The small boy became pinker than before.

“The taxi, sir. I heard her tell the driver Charing Cross and to look

sharp.”

Tommy stared at him, his eyes opening wide in surprise. Emboldened, the

small boy proceeded. “So I thought, having asked for an A.B.C. and a Bradshaw.”

Tommy interrupted him:

“When did she ask for an A.B.C. and a Bradshaw?”

“When I took her the telegram, sir.”

“A telegram?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When was that?”

“About half-past twelve, sir.”

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

The small boy drew a long breath.

“I took up a telegram to No. 891–the lady was there. She opened it and

gave a gasp, and then she said, very jolly like: ‘Bring me up a Bradshaw, and an

A.B.C., and look sharp, Henry.’ My name isn’t Henry, but—-”

“Never mind your name,” said Tommy impatiently. “Go on.”

“Yes, sir. I brought them, and she told me to wait, and looked up

something. And then she looks up at the clock, and ‘Hurry up,’ she says. ‘Tell

them to get me a taxi,’ and she begins a-shoving on of her hat in front of the

glass, and she was down in two ticks, almost as quick as I was, and I seed her

going down the steps and into the taxi, and I heard her call out what I told

you.”

The small boy stopped and replenished his lungs. Tommy continued to stare

at him. At that moment Julius rejoined him. He held an open letter in his hand.

“I say, Hersheimmer”–Tommy turned to him–“Tuppence has gone off sleuthing

on her own.”

” Shucks!”

“Yes, she has. She went off in a taxi to Charing Cross in the deuce of a

hurry after getting a telegram.” His eye fell on the letter in Julius’s hand.

“Oh; she left a note for you. That’s all right. Where’s she off to?”

Almost unconsciously, he held out his hand for the letter, but Julius

folded it up and placed it in his pocket. He seemed a trifle embarrassed.

“I guess this is nothing to do with it. It’s about something

else–something I asked her that she was to let me know about.”

“Oh!” Tommy looked puzzled, and seemed waiting for more.

“See here,” said Julius suddenly, “I’d better put you wise. I asked Miss

Tuppence to marry me this morning.”

“Oh!” said Tommy mechanically. He felt dazed. Julius’s words were totally

unexpected. For the moment they benumbed his brain.

“I’d like to tell you,” continued Julius, “that before I suggested anything

of the kind to Miss Tuppence, I made it clear that I didn’t want to butt in in

any way between her and you—-

Tommy roused himself.

“That’s all right,” he said quickly. “Tuppence and I have been pals for

years. Nothing more.” He lit a cigarette with a hand that shook ever so

little. “That’s quite all right. Tuppence always said that she was looking out

for—-”

He stopped abruptly, his face crimsoning, but Julius was in no way

discomposed.

“Oh, I guess it’ll be the dollars that’ll do the trick. Miss Tuppence put

me wise to that right away. There’s no humbug about her. We ought to gee along

together very well.”

Tommy looked at him curiously for a minute, as though he were about to

speak, then changed his mind and said nothing. Tuppence and Julius! Well, why

not? Had she not lamented the fact that she knew no rich men? Had she not

openly avowed her intention of marrying for money if she ever had the chance?

Her meeting with the young American millionaire had given her the chance–and it

was unlikely she would be slow to avail herself of it. She was out for money.

She had always said so. Why blame her because she had been true to her creed?

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